Total Share Mode
by kangeiko
Summary: Spike's miserable. Will the Slayer listen to his complaints? Spike/Dru, Spike/Buffy, solo action. ;-


TOTAL SHARE MODE

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them, Joss does. Don't sue, I'm broke anyway.

SPOILERS: This is set in between "Something Blue" and "Hush" in Buffy Season 4, so spoilers up to that.

RATING: R, for sexual situations and total sharing.

SUMMARY: Spike's miserable. Will the Slayer listen to his complaints?

PAIRING: Spike/Dru, Spike/Buffy, solo action. ;-)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: As I write this, I'm at a writing convention. I have just come back from a "Whipping & Spanking" workshop, where I learned a few things. Let's just say that I am a lot more open-minded now. g This was written as a mindless kick to combat writer's block, so fair warning.

Buffy returned to Giles' apartment with half a demon, depositing the semi-corpse in his hallway. Giles looked up from his newspaper and blinked at it in puzzlement. "What is that?"

He received an irate glare in response. "Our soldier boys forgot half of their demon when they jumped me and stole his arms and most of his head. They didn't even say where I should send the rest! Behold me not being happy." She sat down opposite a bored-looking Spike, slowly sipping blood from a novelty mug and staring blankly at the turned-off TV. "Hey Spike."

"Slayer," he said warily.

Giles was still staring in disbelief at the decomposing demon in his hallway. "And you decided to bring it back with you so it could bleed all over my carpet?"

"Well, I couldn't exactly leave it there and let some kid find it, could I?" Buffy reasoned, hunting for the TV guide. "Besides, it wouldn't burn when I set fire to it, and I don't want to have to bury it unless it's absolutely necessary. I always break a nail or worse. Can you do your Watcher thing and find out how to make it go 'poof'?"

It took a lot more persuading than that, but eventually Giles went to research their semi-corpse upstairs. Which left Buffy on the sofa opposite an obviously miserable Spike.

They sat in silence until Spike decided to open the conversation. "Stake me."

"Excuse me?" Buffy blinked at him. They went from "hey, Slayer," to "stake me"? Whatever happened to the social niceties in between? She needed a little small talk – then, and only then would she stake him.

"I said," Spike repeated, getting up and starting to pace restlessly, "stake me. Um –" he hesitated. "Please?" The word sounded foreign coming from him. His face looked different than usual, Buffy suddenly thought. Thinner, more vulnerable than she remembered. Plus, he had that whole misery thing going for him.

"Confused much? I mean - why?"

He gaped. "You want the list?" At her expectant face, his expression grew resigned and a touch angry. "All right. Thanks to your soddin' army boys, I'm always hungry. When I do eat, it's like eating week-old food. It's disgusting. I can't fight. I can't do anything I want to…. I mean, look at this!" He suddenly turned his back to her and pulled up his T-shirt in one smooth motion.

Buffy's mouth dropped open in horror. Livid red welts created a tapestry of pain and misery over the pale skin, as if someone had decided to whip a lesson into the broad back. Here and there, the tell-tale greenish tinge of a developing bruise gleamed wetly. "Oh my God!" This was unthinkable. Yes, Spike was a demon from Hell, and yes, he probably deserved to have the skin flogged off his back – hell, he's probably inflicted worse himself, but…. Yes, but. He was helpless, and currently in her 'care'. Some care she's shown. However reluctantly she had taken him in, it had happened, and she was, in a twisted kind of way, responsible for him. Had she even noticed when this had happened? No. It must have been a recent occurrence – the welts were still red and virulent and looked ready to break open at any second. Had Spike been missing in the last few days? Not that she'd noticed. Some protector of the helpless she was.

"Oh God – Spike, who did this? One of your demon ex-friends…." That would have been it. They would have targeted him for working with the Slayer, and decided to teach him a lesson. Yeah, that would really help rehabilitate him. What am I thinking?! Rehabilitate William the Bloody? Still, miracles were possible, right? If he couldn't bite, he could be persuaded to share information about his former friends - and they could always use an extra pair of hands. But not if they weren't attached…

Spike finished pulling off his T-shirt and snorted derisively, tossing it into Buffy's lap and sitting down heavily next to her on the sofa. He kicked up his booted feet and rested them, open-legged, on the low table in front. "Not bloody likely, Slayer. I should be so lucky nowadays – fuck it, I had to do it myself." His expression glum, he took a quick swig from his blood mug and grimaced. "Since you took me in, none of them would come near me, let alone whip me! God, I miss Dru…." A faraway look appeared on his face and he closed his eyes, obviously caught up in bittersweet memories.

Buffy clung to the facts and tried not to die of shock or curiosity. She fixated on the nearest strange word. "Yourself? You – you – you – you did this yourself? How?" And, more importantly, "why?!" Was this some sort of self-punishment thing for him? Did he feel worthless enough to try and whip the skin off his own back? Maybe it was an elaborate form of suicide… she shuddered at the thought.

Spike looked at her sidelong over a blood moustache. "I told you. No one else would. It's bloody criminal – one little changing of sides, and suddenly you're worse than a bloody leper! I mean, it wasn't as if I was asking them to turn themselves in or anything, I just wanted a good whipping. Is that too much to ask?" He turned puppy-dog eyes to her.

"I – um – uh…." All of a sudden, Buffy felt very very young. Very young. Very young. This was beyond the realm of 'know thy enemy', and into the realm of 'TOO MUCH INFORMATION!!!' And she didn't want to know. Truly.

Spike took her silence as assent. "See? They're selfish pricks, the lot of them. Do you know how difficult self-flagellation is? About as easy as sucking your own cock, and let me tell you, you gotta be bloody limber for that too. Hurts like buggery if you miss and hit the ribs instead." He pointed to a welt high up on his left side, where the skin had previously broken and was only just starting to heal. "See this? Shattered bone is what it is, and it stings something rotten. I was only three inches off, but it made all the difference, and it's not like you can judge distances that well, and…" Obviously giving up, he took to scowling for a minute instead, trying to gather his scattered thoughts.

Buffy was having similar trouble forming anything coherent in her head. These nuggets of information were more than she wanted to know were even possible. Somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind she came up with a credible mental picture of Spike finding out exactly how limber he was, then immediately recoiled. Cleanse, cleanse, cleanse. Thoughts like that were so of the bad, they needed to be exterminated. Think about the shattered bones instead. Shattered bones are also of the bad.

Spike was paying no attention to her discomfort whatsoever, wrapped up in his own misery. "And, you know, even if your aim is dead-on, you just can't get that same sting when you do it yourself! The whip has to go all the way around first, and by the time it does that, it's managed to knock over half the bloody room and hasn't got any kick left! Criminal, that's what it bloody well is. Bloody hell, last time I managed to break the damn whip handle as well as destroy most of the room! Giles is going to toss me out on my ear for sure…" He shook his head, clearly disgusted with his own reliance on their goodwill. "And who am I complaining to about this? The Slayer." He threw up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Go on. Stake me now. Not only can't I feed anymore, I can't get a decent fuck either. Some unlife this is turning out to be!"

"You can't have sex?" What had those soldiers done to him, anyway? Cut off various vital parts? Spike hadn't exactly volunteered information about anything like that, and Buffy hadn't really wanted to ask.

He growled. "No. Well –" he amended quickly, "I can, you know, have sex, but I can't bloody come! Not if I want to stay this side of sane, anyway."

Yeah, but which side are you on? She had a nagging suspicion that Spike viewed himself as someone sane, sensible and practical. Which, in demon terms, he probably was. If he's the best of the bunch… Still, she had to know. "What's the problem?" She asked, despite her supposedly better judgement.

Spike stared at her for a silent, dragged-out moment before suddenly convulsing. It took Buffy a while to identify the tremors that racked his slender frame as helpless laughter, and when she did, it immediately justified a furious and embarrassed scowl on her part.

After a minute or two, Spike brought himself under control – sort of. Still trying to hold back the helpless giggles, he gasped, "bloody hell, Slayer, didn't the poof bite you when you shagged?"

She glared. Trust him to bring something like that up! "Not that it's any of your business, but no. Why would he?"

He grinned, obviously enjoying her discomfort. "'Cause that's what vampires do, love. It don't matter to us who or what we shag, as long as there's biting involved at climax. No wonder he lost his bloody soul, I'd have a heart attack an' all if I tried that, and I don't even have a heart that's beatin'!" He started laughing quietly again. "Ah, that just makes my day. The bloody poof couldn't bite you, so probably bit his own arm, that right?" His smile faltered. "Anyway, I can't do that. Not worth it. " He eventually fell silent, lapsing into a sulky stupor.

Buffy's brain tried to process all the information it had just absorbed, and eventually admitted defeat. She tried to steer the conversation back to the question of whipping, rather than her own sex life. "You – you – you said that swinging the whip ruined the whole room?" Something was nagging at the corners of her mind, and she couldn't quite catch it….

He blinked at the change in topic. "Yeah, what of it?"

Realisation dawned. It was a beautiful sight. Hah! I got you! "Well – Xander said that Harmony burned all your stuff. When did all this happen? Must have been recent. Come on, Spike, the truth. No way could you have a whip, let alone the room to swing it." There. It was all an elaborate lie, wasn't it? That would make sense. Spike was a known liar, after all, he'd lied to her when… er….. well, he's a vampire, he can lie, it's not like it's a deadly sin for him or anything!

Spike looked at her oddly. "Well, you're half right, anyway. There is no room to swing a whip here – I destroyed half of Giles' bedroom, and let me tell you, your Watcher weren't that pleased about it!"

Okay. So maybe that was plausible, although how Spike wasn't dust after demolishing Giles' stuff – or at the very least tied up again (she had a horrible feeling he'd enjoy that as well) – was still a mystery. "But – the whip?"

Spike groaned. "Give me a fucking break. I got it out of Giles' closet." Buffy's jaw bruised her ankles on its way down. "Come on Slayer, quit being a whiny little kid. He's yer Watcher, surely you know 'im…. Shit, I'm gonna catch hell when he finds out I broke the damn thing…"

Buffy shook her head quickly. No. Obviously not. "No," she said aloud. "I don't believe you." And she didn't - not really. This was obviously an elaborate scheme of Spike's to destroy her and Giles' steady, trusting relationship. He was playing mind games, that was it. She'd tie him up in the bathroom again, and gag him this time. She didn't really need these thoughts in her head, or the mental picture they conjured up.

Or most especially the possibilities that presented themselves! Stop thinking that, that's sick and twisted and – and – and – bad. Yeah, that's it. It's Spike being all evil… Well, she'd have to lock herself up as well if that was the case, because the thought of finding out exactly how limber the vampire was kept circling around in her head. Stop it! This isn't real, this is some elaborate scheme of his, Pay attention, brain. She scowled for effect.

Spike just shook his head in disbelief.

Giles chose that moment to come down the stairs. "Buffy, it's a Kelgesh demon. Dump it in the sea and it'll boil into nothingness." He held up he book he carried, as if for approval. In his other hand he held a small leather ball, with a ragged wooden edge sticking out of it angrily. It had clearly been snapped off something. "And - Spike? When one is a guest in someone's house, one doesn't usually destroy their host's possessions."

Buffy fell off her seat.

End "Total Share Mode"


End file.
